


oneironaut

by apostolosian (mercutioes)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: A Priest is Caught in an Extremely Fraught Encounter Between Two Exes, Dream Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/apostolosian
Summary: alyosha's dreams are vivid, tonight





	oneironaut

**Author's Note:**

> a while ago, julian asked for an alyosha samsam-wich and uhhhhh this is what popped out? the heart wants what it wants, i guess

Alyosha has just finished his sermon and he stands near the church’s door, smiling and nodding beatifically as the congregation files past him on their way out.  It’s mundane, everyday, so he doesn’t quite notice how the faces of his parishioners are a little blurry, the edges of the room indistinct.  How the door leads out into empty blank space.

When Alyosha turns around, there is one person left sitting in the front pew.  They’re cloaked, shoulders slight but held regally, emitting a faint glow that Alyosha can’t quite comprehend.

“My friend,” he says, moving back up through the aisle.  “Is there something you wish to discuss?”

The figure pulls back their hood as Alyosha reaches the altar, revealing blond hair close to Alyosha’s in color and the most piercing blue eyes he’s ever seen.  He’s _radiant_ , and Alyosha takes an unconscious step back.

“It was a beautiful sermon,” the man says, voice sweet like honey and soft like velvet.  “I can see how much you truly love your Lord.”

There’s a sardonic twist in his voice, a bitter current running underneath the sweetness, but Alyosha is too taken in by the impossible beauty of his face to truly notice, even when the man takes a sure step forward.

“Of course I love Him,” says Alyosha, voice ringing distant in his own ears.  “He put the sun in the sky, after all.  We live by His grace alone.”

The man takes another step forward, and suddenly his cloak isn’t a deep forest green but the fur of a pure white wolf and there’s a gold circlet around his head and Alyosha can’t understand how he didn’t register his sheer _presence_ before.  He’s enthralling, entrancing, and Alyosha can’t look away even when the man closes the distance between them and puts a cold hand up to Alyosha’s cheek.

“His grace is fickler than you know,” says the man, a crooked smile on his fine, pink lips.  Alyosha licks his own, mouth suddenly dry as the god leans in to meet him.

His lips are _cold_ but clever and Alyosha melts into the kiss, arms coming up to snake around the man’s neck.  He uses the hand on Alyosha’s cheek to direct them, tipping his head back to deepen it and slip his tongue into Alyosha’s mouth.  Alyosha groans, soft, into the kiss, working fingers into the impossibly fine hair at the nape of the man’s neck, when –

“Samot.”

The voice comes from behind them and Alyosha jumps, breaks the kiss to whirl around.  His breath leaves him in a rush as he registers that Samothes himself stands there, resplendent and shining in his own church.  It’s so incomprehensible that it wraps right back around to being natural, ineffable.  He’s seen Samothes in dreams before but never quite like this, never quite this _real_.

And this… this is Samot, he just kissed _Samot_ who has plastered himself along Alyosha’s back and hooked his chin over Alyosha’s shoulder.  Samot who Alyosha has only read about in old texts, who the church tries its best to gloss over and forget, Samot who – if Alyosha’s translations are correct – took the God-King as his lover, as his _husband,_ hundreds and thousands of years ago.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks.

“You have no power here,” says Samot, lips cool at Alyosha’s neck.  He kisses up to Alyosha’s jaw, his ear, and Alyosha can’t help but tip his head back, close his eyes.  Samothes’ eyes burn into him but Samot’s touch is magnetic in a way he can’t resist.  Samot chuckles against Alyosha’s cheek and he opens his eyes to see Samothes’ face twisted into a disapproving frown.

“Are you jealous?” Samot asks, and Samothes’ gaze heats further when Samot runs a hand down Alyosha’s chest.  “You treat your disciples as your playthings, _my love_ , but you can’t share your toys?  Can’t stand to see me take what’s yours?”

Alyosha gasps as Samot bites into the side of his neck and slips a hand inside his robes.  He’s caught between Samot’s solid chest and Samothes’ steely gaze, equally fraught with seething jealously and burning lust.  Samot circles his clit with deft fingers and he cries out, one hand coming up to fist in Samot’s hair and the other clutching at his arm where it disappears into Alyosha’s vestments.

“Samot, don’t do this,” growls Samothes, but Samot only laughs, cruel and mocking.  He slips a finger into Alyosha and makes him moan high and sharp.

“This isn’t your dominion, _God-King_ ,” he spits.  “You can’t _control_ us.”  He grasps at Alyosha’s hair and yanks hard, biting at his exposed throat.  Alyosha keens, mind struggling to process the onslaught of sensation and comprehend that he’s trapped here between two gods _and_ keep himself _upright._

Samot’s fingers are clever, swiftly bringing him to the edge, wetness dripping over Samot’s hand and down Alyosha’s thighs under his robes.  He’s painfully aware of Samothes’ eyes on him, burning with want and desire and jealousy and it’s _too much_ , so he turns his head towards Samot, plants a sloppy kiss to his jaw and breathes heavily as Samot adds a second finger and crooks them _just so_.

“Look at him, Samothes,” whispers Samot, voice rasping and vicious.  “He burns so bright and yet you would _use him_.”

And then Alyosha is coming, sharp and aching and so good he feels like he’s going to shake apart on Samot’s fingers.  He can feel the wolf fur cloak tickle his neck and Samot’s breath cool on his cheek and Samot’s fingers continuing to move inside him until he stops clenching around them.

Samot pulls them from Alyosha’s body with a wet sound and spins him around to catch him in another kiss.  It’s impossible to escape Samot’s animal magnetism, his all-encompassing draw that leaves Alyosha’s knees weak, grasping at Samot’s forearms and moaning deep into his mouth.  He closes his eyes and doesn’t notice that the church is melting around them, lines blurred and the stone walls crumbling away into nothing.  The kiss is dirty and showy, but there’s a deep sadness too, desperation lingering underneath the hunger of his teeth and lips.

Samot pulls back, holds Alyosha’s face with both hands, looks him dead in the eyes.  “Don’t let him use you,” he whispers, bitterness sharp on his tongue.  Alyosha doesn’t respond, doesn’t know what to say, can’t find the words that usually come so naturally to his lips.  Samot searches his face and his eyes dim when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

And then Samot spins Alyosha again, pushes him towards Samothes who catches him when he stumbles over his own feet.  His god is solid and so _warm_ , and Alyosha still can’t comprehend that he’s _touching Samothes._

Samot’s mocking laugh comes from behind them, sharp and biting, but Alyosha can’t look away from Samothes’ face for even a second.

“Go ahead, Samothes,” says Samot, icy and distant.  “He’s yours.  He’ll always be yours.”

And Samothes looks down at Alyosha, his eyes dark and endlessly deep, and he kisses him.  Just once, burning hot but soft, simple.  Alyosha feels warmth blossom through his limbs, settling deep in the pit of his stomach.  He leans up on his tiptoes to deepen the kiss, and –

He sits up in his bedroll, shaking and sweating.  Hadrian is leaning over him, worry on his face along with the hint of an embarrassed blush.

“Alyosha, are you alright?” he asks, and Alyosha sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.  He fixes a weary smile on his face and nods.

“I’ll be fine, Hadrian.  Just… a strange dream.”

Hadrian looks at him doubtfully but returns to his watch at the dying fire.

With shaking hands, Alyosha pulls pen and ink and paper from his pack and begins to write a letter.


End file.
